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You’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing. Money is your main focus and it’s there, waiting for you to allow it in. You have the ideas, now you have to take action. Your fear of not being qualified enough is just that… a fear. It holds no value other than to keep you from taking that first step.

There’s only one thing in life that is true for every human on the planet, and that is, we’re born to die.

Why I was chosen to tell you this had me baffled at the time, and if anyone would have told me that my soul’s mission was to deliver this universal truth to mankind, I would have laughed and waved them away. But here I am, detached from your world, about to embark on a journey that to most humans would seem utterly unfathomable. But, getting back to this truth . . . It’s something that you need to know. Understanding and accepting it won’t be easy, as it’ll go against everything you’ve been conditioned to believe. Even my students at Columbia had a difficult time understanding it, and it was pounded into their heads every day. Explaining to them that we’re born to die, and that death is what we aspire to, was like trying to explain calculus to an infant: it wasn’t happening. It’s not that they weren’t fascinated or interested in learning it; they just couldn’t grasp the concept. Of course, while teaching them, they continually hounded me to present proof, but I had no literal proof at the time, as no human does. But after studying the greatest scholars and spiritual teachers, and after traveling around the world to further my studies, I formulated a belief based upon my experiences, and that belief is: there is life after death.

And I was correct.

It was Thursday, May 3, 7:52 a.m. when they pulled the plug and declared me officially dead. But I was gone long before that. You see, when a person’s hooked-up to a life support system, it’s that system keeping their vitals alive. The spirit leaves the body before it shuts down. It knows its time is up. And that’s what happened with me. A blinding white light came into my view and when I focused on it, I was ripped out of my body. It was a moment of euphoric revelation and freedom, one that I’d like for you to envision.

I could actually feel myself rising out of the confines of my imprisonment; ripping away from my robe of flesh, separating from it, like a butterfly separating from its chrysalis. Gone were the shackles that made me a slave to my own life; those hurts and fears that kept me unfulfilled and oppressed. I was now free from their captivity—my body left behind; that lifeless, disease-filled corpse which would soon be buried and forgotten.

Now I ask you: could any human know the exuberance of this freedom? Could they understand how a butterfly emerges from a creature that can only crawl—how its metamorphic frame can lift gracefully into the air with just the flutter of its parchment wings? My soul now understands that to be a butterfly, it must first know its beginning; the genesis of its existence and the many stages it must experience in order to arrive at its full enlightenment.

As I crossed into the dimension known as the other side, I was able to see into the life I left behind—into those endless corridors that I once roamed, searching for that one door that would open; that one door that would lead me to happiness. While alive, I couldn’t find the door; I was blinded by my struggles. But from where I am now, the truth is so clear: life isn’t a punishment that has a pointless ending. Life is for learning. It’s about rising above the atrocities and emotional pains that are self-inflicted and creating our reality from within. And death? Death is part of the reason why we’re born. It’s the prize we get for enduring the trials of life. It’s what we aspire to on an unconscious level—something that no human can escape. Death is our reprieve. It allows us to look back on our mistakes so that we can grow. And, as we cross back to our natural state of spirit, we remember this. But in the physical world, all this knowledge is forgotten. It’s pushed down and buried under layers of living—deeply filtered by our subconscious and ego. We lose our perfectness when we’re born into the physical world—to the point where we grow into hateful, vengeful, greedy beings—known as man.

You see, man was created in God’s image so that man would enhance God’s own existence; so that man would expand space and perpetuate realities through his thoughts. But the image that man was created in wasn’t just the physical aspect of God; it was the mental aspect—the workings of God’s mind . . . His ability to create. Yes, God gave man the whole package, and included in the package was the freedom to make his own decisions. It’s called free will. And even though God knew every thought and action that man would ever have, He didn’t interfere with his decisions. He let man make his mistakes. He had to; it was a part of the plan. He called it lessons, and without them, the soul wouldn’t be able to evolve to its full potential.

But despite man being created in God’s image, he wasn’t made perfect; although, man believed that he was. Man believed that he could outthink God. He believed that he was it. He believed that all his ideas and dreams were born only to him. But I’ll let you in on a secret. Every aspect of man’s mind, from the most darkest and inconceivable thoughts to the most ingenious ideas, have already been a thought in the mind of God. Even man’s emotions were given to him for a reason. He didn’t just summons them into his gut; they’re a part of his navigational system—to guide him. When man gets off track with God, he feels sadness and a lack of purpose. Man was supposed to question these feelings so that God could guide him onto his path, but he didn’t. Instead, he disillusioned himself into believing that his sadness was caused from an outside source, such as lack of money or lack of love, but that was just his ego masking the truth. Man didn’t want to accept that there was something bigger and better than him. And although he knew it deep down, he chose not to deal with it by telling himself that if God were real then life would be perfect; and this gave him the reason to keep his ego alive. It made him powerful. It made him feel in control. But deep within man’s soul was a fact that he would never understand while in the physical world: he only existed because he was a part of the plan.

Yes, God deliberately made man. He gave him the ability to create his outside world through his thoughts. He gave him the power to communicate with Him by using a special part of his brain—the part that’s hidden behind his eyes, located between the two hemispheres. It’s what the prophets spoke of for thousands of years. It’s called the Pineal, and it’s the key that unlocks supernatural doors, enabling man to cross the threshold of the physical world to step into the beyond.

You see, man always had the ability to connect with God while living in the physical world, but he chose not to figure it out; because figuring it out would make him work too hard for something that he wasn’t sure of—for something that he couldn’t see or touch. It was knowledge that was innate, just waiting to be tapped into. God didn’t want it kept as a secret. He wanted man to reach for Him for all his answers, but man didn’t. He chose to look elsewhere, and God knew that this would happen. He knew that man would take the ring and run with it, believing that he had all the control.

Man indulged his ego to the point of self destruction. He allowed money, sex, and power to dictate his life. He blamed his decisions on his right to pursue happiness. He told himself that he had to take care of number one. His hypocritical reasoning used the idea of God when his life was good, and when his life was in chaos, he blamed God for deserting him. Man became cocky and shunned the one thing that was there for him all along. Not only didn’t man revere God, he no longer believed in Him.

What I’m about to tell you may fill you with uncertainty and apprehension. God isn’t some celestial ruler created by a bunch of religious scholars. And while all you people have been living a lie, living in your ego-filled worlds, an ethereal plan has been unfolding; a plan that will make the Book of Revelations look like a child’s tale.

Know this: Man was given two paths to choose from. He listened to his ego. Now they’re both going to pay.

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I believe this is a question that’s been asked by every human who every lived; but I don’t believe the same answer is shared by all. What does God look like?

I went to catholic school, and during those years, God was always referred to as He, and when a ‘He’ is mentioned, the first image that crops into my head is a boy or a man. So throughout my life, I’ve always pictured God to be a man. The image of Him was simple–a man wearing a white flowing robe, perched high on a glowing cloud, surrounded by angels playing mellifluous melodies on trumpets.

Then as I got older, the image of Him changed. He was still a He, but there wasn’t a cloud, nor any angels. It was just Him. Then during a very traumatic time, His image went from being a tall man in a white robe to just His head. And I know that sounds blasphemous in a way, despite my intention.

Today, if you asked me to explain what God looks like, I couldn’t. Because in my head, He’s a he who’s not a he, but can become a he if he wants to. To me, He’s an encompassing swirl of energy that has conscience. Picture the wind. We can’t see it, yet we can feel it; it’s all around us. That’s how I picture God. Pure intelligence who is vaporous; who is ethereal; yet who could change form any time.

God is every particle of every atom of every existence, and that’s just in the physical world. I can’t even begin to fathom what He is outside of this realm.

I’m Valentine deFrancis, and I’m a writer from New York. Today, I would like to talk to you about stereotypes and how a typical New Yorker is stereotyped as, well, not so bright. Now I know that TV and movies depict New Yorkers as sausage eating, money hungry, pushy, arrogant, gangster-leaning types, but of all those things, what gets me the most is how our intelligence is based upon our accents. It’s true. Hey, listen. I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. Yeah. That’s right. Brooklyn—the pizza capital of the world; the place where John Travolta struts his bad-ass self in Saturday Night Fever. Yep, that’s where I was raised. But here is where the whole thing starts going uphill. People naturally think that New Yorkers are not sophisticated because we have that accent. Know what I mean? Let me educate you on our wordage, if I may.

The entire U. S. says the word coffee as follows: caa fee

A New Yorker says caw fee.

The entire U. S. says the word water as: waa ter

A New Yorker says waw ta

The U. S. says hello

A New Yorker says yo, whas up?

The U. S. says, forget about it.

A New Yorker says fuhgeddaboudit

The U. S. says, thirty third and third

A New Yorker says tirdy tird and tird

But people, does that make us stupid?

I was speaking to some friends from Myspace on the phone and each one of them giggled at my accent. Each one of them said, “Gee Val, I never expected you to sound so New Yorkish.”
Heck, people. What the hell am I supposed to sound like? A Frenchie? A Brit? A Korean? I’m a New Yorker! I’m supposed to sound this way, but that doesn’t negate my brilliance. Did I mention that New Yorkers are also very modest?
Just because I have this Brooklyn accent doesn’t mean that I was raised in a cabbage patch. Oh contrare, my lovelies. This Brooklyn native is quite intelligent and more than on her toes. You have to wake up prit-ty darn early to get over on me or any New Yorker for that matter. Get a load of this little diddy that happened two days before I flew out to Vegas last week.

I went online to purchase my plane tickets, and I happened to notice that you can buy extra leg room for $30.00 per person. I’m 5’7″, and the boyfriend is 6″, so I say to myself . . . great. I’ll buy the seats with the extra leg room. Who cares about the $30.00 per person. I need to be comfortable when I’m flying. Of course, my boyfriend doesn’t care where he sits because he’s a commercial pilot, and he’s used to sitting anywhere. So I buy the seats with the extra leg room.

Twenty-four hours before my flight, I print the boarding passes, and I see a little notation that advertises the extra leg room seats for $10 per seat. I say to my New York self, WTF? They ain’t rippin’ me off. So I call them, and this is the brilliant answer I get.

JetBlue, my name is Betty, how can I help you today?

Yes, I purchased two seats to Las Vegas, and I paid $30.00 per person for the extra leg room seats. I just printed my boarding passes and noticed that you are now selling the extra leg room for $10.00 per seat. I want my account credited for $40.00.

Let me check that for you ma’am.

I tap my pen and begin to softly hum, and then she comes back on the line.

Ms. deFrancis, the reason you were charged $30.00 per seat is because you have a longer flight time.

I laugh out loud.

Let me get this straight. I am charged more money for the same seat because I will be on the plane for an hour more? What kind of nonsense is that?

Well, Ms. deFrancis, if you think about it, it makes sense.

Oh it does, does it? Explain how.

Well, your legs will be stretched out for a longer duration, she says.

I bulge my eyes and shake my head, wondering if I heard her correctly.

Repeat that again?

Yes, Ms. deFrancis. Because you are using the plane’s seat longer, we charge you more.

I stare at my refrigerator for approximately 3 seconds before my New York attitude kicks in. Where are you located, Betty?

I’m located in Utah, she says.

Hmmm, Utah. Well, let me tell you something, Betty, from Utah. Do you expect me to buy that line of shit? Is that what JetBlue tells you to tell your customers, or are you just winging it? I have never been so insulted. What kind of crap is that? The plane and the seats are still the plane and the seats whether I fly to Florida or Vegas. So you’re saying that because I stretch my legs for 2 hours more, I’m charged for it?

Well, umm, yes Ms. deFrancis. That’s our policy.

DO YOU HONESTLY EXPECT ME TO FALL FOR THAT LINE OF HORSE HOCKEY?

Ummm, I can see you’re upset, she says.

No Betty, I’m not upset. I’m insulted at your pathetic attempt to demean my intelligence with that absurd answer.

She giggles.

I hang up on her.

Now people, tell me. Did that make any sense to you? I may have a New York accent, but I don’t hear with an accent. Geesh, give me a break!

I could see from where I was standing that the sun was just peeking over the water’s horizon. It looked as though a blaze of orange was emerging from the ocean; almost as if God was pulling it up by invisible strings. The smell of the salty, warm sea air, as I breathed in deeply, reminded me of when I was a little girl, when my family used to have picnics on the shores of Long Island. No memory could compare to those days of freedom; nothing could come close to the feeling of the security that I felt when I was with my mother and father.

I poured myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and let the screen door slam behind me as I proceeded to walk onto the beach. There wasn’t anyone around but me; the silence was welcomed, even in spite of the ocean’s roar. It was as if it was saying something to me; taunting me with each rush it made to the shoreline. I took a sip of my coffee and reveled in its hazelnut sweetness, and thanked God to be having the experience that I was having at that precise moment.

The sky was violet; I say violet to emphasize the clarity of its blueness. White formations floated above, making me think that something as beautiful as this could only be appreciated when you appreciate life—when you step away and let yourself be. My dreams are like the clouds—forever and ethereal, and they remind me that I am more than this space that I occupy.

Closing my eyes, and letting myself be, allows me to align with Him; my thoughts are of pureness and deep revelation; a contentment which goes deeper than any gratification could offer. It’s a freedom from this world. It’s a flight of my senses that goes beyond fleshly recognition.

I began to walk; my feet sinking deeply with each step I took. Seashells stared up at me, begging for my attention. The tiny, white ones were the ones that I picked up because the sun had made them glisten, like tiny diamonds. Nowhere in my world is there a place as perfect as this. A lifetime ago made itself known, just as it always does. The memory never leaves me when I set my imagination and soul free from these prison walls called now.

A black and yellow butterfly graciously floats past me, and then lands on the sand a few feet ahead. And as I get closer to it, it lifts off in slow motion and gently brushes against my arm. Seagulls fly above; their cries bring me back to that time, and again, I can’t remember when that was. I only know that I was there and that I would never forget it.

My soul will never be complete. It hungers for yesterday and begs for tomorrow. It searches for newness, yet seeks the comfort of familiarity. Gin Lane is where I once lived over two centuries ago.

Forgiving isn’t easy. In fact, it’s probably one of the hardest things to do. When someone has lashed out at us, or betrayed us, we get this anger that rushes through our bodies and into our heads, and the first thing we think is that we’ll never talk to that person again. Isn’t that the truth? So we harbor this resentment, and keep our anger towards this person in the forefront of our minds; after all, we have the right to be pissed at this person, and we have every right to show it. Don’t we? How dare they betray us! How dare they say those horrible things! We’re going to stay mad at them, and we’re not giving in. And we’re going to tell everyone we know about what this person had done to us and how they’ve ruined our lives. And we’re going to let it fester, and bubble, and grow, until it’s the biggest event since the birth of Jesus. AND WE WON’T CAVE! WE HAVE OUR GOD-GIVEN RIGHT TO STAY PISSED.
I know that anyone reading this has been there and done that. So here’s the deal. I’m going to break this down and hopefully dissect this so that you can understand why forgiving is the best thing you can do for yourself. Yes, for you–not for the person who has hurt you.

I always thought that forgiving someone would let the other person off the hook–that the person would think that whatever they had done was no big deal and that they had gotten away with hurting me. And this was my belief for most of my life. And when someone hurt me, I kept that anger alive and held onto it for years. But several years ago, when my connection to the other side was made, I was shown the truth about what happens to our minds, bodies, and to our lives when we don’t forgive.
Anger serves a purpose. It tells us that we’re off track with who we are. It tells us that someone invaded our right to be right. It tells us that someone humiliated us–disregarded our feelings–without caring. But why do we get so angry? Cheating, abandonment, and betrayals are big offenses towards the ego. When it happens to us, we’re crushed. And we’re supposed to feel the anger. Our anger was given to us as a guide. We’re supposed to acknowledge it, question why we’re so offended and hurt, and then let it go. But why?

Anger means that someone stepped into our egotistical space and challenged us. If you’ve studied the ego, you’ll learn that our ego wants to play the role of God, here on earth. It believes that it has full control. But it’s a facade. Ego is a defense mechanism, and according to the way we were raised and according to our core beliefs, the ego’s job is to protect our beliefs—regardless if our beliefs are on or off the actual truth. So when someone invades our ego’s space and does something that we have no control over, we torment ourselves because we can’t believe that we weren’t clever enough or intelligent enough to catch-on to the betrayal. We can’t get over the idea that another person would think that we weren’t good enough. But here’s the catch. Now listen very carefully. When someone does something to hurt you, it’s not you who they are attacking. It’s not about you–ever. They are thinking of themselves and what’s good for them. It’s their ego that is feeling crushed or bruised, and so, they will do whatever they have to do to repair it; and nine times out of ten that means seeking immediate gratification to boost the way they feel, regardless of who they’re hurting. It’s not about you. It’s never about you. It’s always about the other person. So it’s like a chain reaction. Each human is out for themselves. Yes! It’s a fact. No matter how you slice and dice it, the bottom line is that each human puts their needs first. They have to. It’s the way the physical world was created.

Now, when we don’t forgive, it affect our bodies and our minds. It causes mental and physical ailments. It’s been proven. Anger causes heart attacks, cancers, back aches, anxiety disorders, panic attacks, and the list is endless. So listen. If you understand what anger does to you, why keep it? You want to feel good every day of your life. You want to be happy and healthy. You want to live your one life the way it was meant to live. You come first in the eye of God. It’s your God-given birth right to create a spectacular life for yourself by learning about who you are and how you can pick and choose what’s best for you. Listen up. You can choose to not let someone’s betrayal affect you. It’s a choice. And it’s a great thing to be able to choose to let it go or not let it go. By letting it go, and understanding that people are people doing whatever they have to do to get through the day, then you’ll understand that it’s never about you. It’s always about them. And if you really think about it, even you do what you have to do–every single time. You may think that you’re being unselfish by putting someone’s needs first, but deep down, you’re putting someone’s needs first because you want them to like you. This is deep. This is huge. This is worth learning and accepting. When you learn about who you are and why you are and why you’re here, you can learn to forgive. Let the anger go. It’s never really about you. It may seem that it is, but it’s the other person’s insecurities than drive them to do what they do. You were just in the way of the bullet. Let it go. Look to God and He’ll show you the way. I swear this to you. Dissect your anger and learn the reason why you’re really mad and then ask God to help you. Do it for you, because you come first, and because you’re worth it.

Read Master of the Realm if you want to read a story of hurts and betrayals. If I can forgive, you can forgive.

In case anyone hasn’t noticed, I’m a writer. I am, damn it. No seriously, I am. Annnnd, I’ll be one of the featured authors sponsored by the Barnes and Noble outdoor event this Saturday, September, 12th at Westerleigh Park in Staten Island, New York.
I’ll be promoting my book, Master of the Realm; my true story of how I overcame agoraphobia with the help of the spirit world . . . YES, SPIRITS AND GHOSTS, people. What? You don’t believe? Afraid to believe? If you read my book, you’ll understand that they’re around you, whether you believe it or not.

Anyway, if you’re reading this and you live in the area, come on by. Admission is free. Would love to meet you. If it rains, it will be held the next day, Sunday, September 13th.